Chapter Text
Fifteen years later
It’s too early in the morning when Louis wakes up to the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps, before a squirming, giggling weight lands right on top of him. He knows it’s too early because sleep still clings with beckoning fingertips at his mind. It’s also too early because his first response to the weight on top of him is to growl and curl protectively around his heavily pregnant mate, shielding the omega from any harm.
“Danny, you know better than to jump on Daddy, we’ve talked about this,” comes Harry’s slumber warm voice, and Louis feels big hands petting over his arms in a soothing motion. The omega coos, turning slightly in Louis’ arms to kiss his forehead. “Just like you don’t sneak up on either Daddy or your brother.”
“But Paaapaaaa!” the young pup whines, bouncing slightly where he’s slipped off of his parents to sit on the mattress. “We get a puppy today!”
“Service dog,” Louis grumbles, trying to hide further against his mate. Harry no longer has his long tresses, curls cut short when he was pregnant with their first child because it helped with the hot flashes. When Harry chuckles and sits up, Louis whines in a way that would rival his son, crumpling his face into a pout.
“Let’s go make breakfast, thunder pup. Leave your Daddy to sleep off his grumpiness, hm?” Harry suggests softly, shifting around with a grunt before standing from the bed.
“Can we make pancakes?” Danny asks, followed by an excited gasp when his Papa must nod in agreement. The pup slips from the bed, and Louis tracks the sound of their footsteps as they make their way to the other end of the house.
The alpha rolls onto his other side, groaning at the ache in his hip and the fact that his mind is wide awake now. Damn. He really wanted to try and sleep just a little longer.
He’s about to give up and roll out of bed when Louis catches the sound of another set of footsteps and a soft clicking noise. It echos from down the hall, cutting off at the doorway of the master bedroom. The rotten flora scent of anxiety filters in, and Louis sits up to address his eldest son.
“What’s on your mind, Batman?” the alpha calls across the room, listening to the sigh Oliver lets out. Instead of a cane, his eldest son uses sonar to find his way. Because of this, Liam had the brilliant idea to nickname the lad after his own favourite comic hero.
(Much to Oliver’s later chagrin, as the lad had taken more to the Marvel universe. He once asked why Louis hadn’t nicknamed him after Daredevil instead, to which the alpha had smirked and asked “Why do you think your middle name is Matthew?”)
When no answer comes, Louis pats the bed, shifting so he’s sat against the headboard. “Come on, tell your old man what’s bothering you.”
Clicking his tongue in his cheek, Oliver pads over to the bed and crawls up to curl up against Louis’ side. As Louis cards his fingers through curls that are so much like Harry’s, the younger lad gathers his thoughts. He’s always been like Louis when it comes to serious talks, needing to be close or at least touching in some way. The two of them find comfort in physical assurance.
“Why did you never get a service dog, Dad?” comes his son’s cautious question, small in the quiet space between them. His eldest has always been a gentle pup, easily anxious and with metaphorical too big paws that he’s yet to grow into.
“Mostly? Couldn’t afford it.” Louis shrugs the shoulder his son’s head isn’t leaning on, cuddling him closer into his side. “But your Papa and I can handle the cost, and I’ll be learning along with you, so we can both train together.” When he feels Oliver relax and nod against his shoulder, Louis turns his face into his powder soft scent of youth, kissing the top of his head. “What’s brought this on? I thought we talked about this?”
“I know, I just…” Another sigh, and when Oliver speaks again it’s around where he must be chewing at his thumbnail. “I just don’t...I don’t want people to think I can’t do stuff by myself. You didn’t need a service dog, so what’s wrong with me?”
“Whoa, whoa, buddy.” Louis drops his hand down to his son’s shoulder, rubbing up and down. “Getting a service dog does not mean there’s something wrong with you! Who told you that? I’ll whack them with my cane. And let me tell you, that thing leaves bruises!” There’s a growl in his voice, low and agitated, and the wolf in his chest bares his teeth in preparation of defending his offspring.
“No one’s called me that, chill out Dad!” Oliver sounds embarrassed, but that’s better than the melancholy gloom of a moment ago. “I just don’t wanna depend on the dog too much, wanna take care of myself. Be strong, you know? On my own. Like you.”
The last words are muttered, but Louis still hears them easily. Leaning his head back, he thinks back on a time when he felt the same as Oliver seems to now. “You know what made me strong?” When his son hums out a quiet ‘no’, the alpha continues. “Your Papa, your uncle Liam and Niall, your grandma and aunts and uncle Ernest. You and your brother, and little Charlotte even though she’s still in your Papa’s tummy.” Sitting his head up again, Louis ruffles his son’s messy curls. “All the people who love and support me are what keeps me sane. Without them I’d still be a bitter idiot sitting in an empty flat, writing songs about being lonely.”
“You sound like one of your songs right now,” his son quips, ever ready with a joking answer to everything.
Whatever Oliver might have to follow up with gets cut off when tiny pounding footsteps tear down the hallway once more and skid to a stop at the doorway. “Breakfast’s ready we made pancakes!” Danny announces, words running together in his eagerness. Then the boy is running back to join his Papa in the kitchen.
“This room is rather busy this morning,” Louis jokes, smiling to himself at the energy five year olds possess. “Better go join them before your brother eats it all.”
“Dad?” Oliver’s voice is more confident now, and Louis hums to let him know he’s listening. “Thanks. For...talking with me.”
“Of course, love. Feel better?”
“Yeah. Much better.”